Grace Dependenthttps://gracedependent.wordpress.com
The thoughts & musings of MarkThu, 22 Feb 2018 04:52:06 +0000enhourly1http://wordpress.com/https://secure.gravatar.com/blavatar/8e693292b3835b8de5757c076dc29a71?s=96&d=https%3A%2F%2Fs2.wp.com%2Fi%2Fbuttonw-com.pngGrace Dependenthttps://gracedependent.wordpress.com
Sappy Post: 1st Try at Maple Sap to Syruphttps://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2016/02/12/sappy-post-1st-try-at-maple-sap-to-syrup/
https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2016/02/12/sappy-post-1st-try-at-maple-sap-to-syrup/#respondSat, 13 Feb 2016 00:11:27 +0000http://gracedependent.com/?p=6516Continue reading →]]>Despite the grim look, I really had a ball boiling down our first gathering of maple sap for 2016. We had collected about 8.5 gallons in the day and half after first tapping our trees. We have 6 maple trees on our lot in the small town we live in. I guess we truly fit the “backyard” description that one sees so much on the internet. On those six trees we have a total of 9 taps. Two of the trees are massive (one measuring over 13′ around). Here’s how today unfolded:

(First of all, I realized quickly that I had to remove the lid from my 55 quart pot. It quickly came up to boil, but I soon discovered that if I wanted the steam to roll effectively I had better remove the lid. I guess all of this proves that you never stop learning).

My sap “pre-production”. Note how clear it is! This is the part that always amazes me: the transformation from clear, watery sap to golden brown, thicker syrup.

I gathered up my cut off 2×4’s (pine) and split some of the Ash wood pieces I had from the truckload of firewood delivered several weeks ago. My “evaporator” set up is just some concrete blocks and rebar to support my pot. I left an opening for access to stoke the fire, and a gap in the back to allow for draft.

A pleasant surprise was that those blocks allowed for me to keep my coffee warm.

I filled the large pot about halfway with maple sap and added to it as it boiled down by half. I started the fire around 7:30a and found myself wrapping up the boiling outside by 11:45a. As the sap boiled down and I neared the time when I needed to begin “finishing” the syrup, I found that I was a bit more worried about what I was doing. Having a perfectionist mindset isn’t for the faint of heart when attempting new endeavors.

The rolling boil died down as it was cooled by the addition of the remaining sap.

As luck would have it, my good friend, Andy LeCount (whose maple operation inspired me to try it on my own), stopped by on his lunch hour to see how I was doing. I was very near the end of the outside production and decided while he was there to pull my sap from the fire. It was turning a deeper brown and had boiled down to where I could fit it in a pot I had planned to use for finishing in the kitchen.

Almost ready to send inside for finishing.

When he had returned to work, I started prepping in the kitchen. I calibrated my thermometer to ensure that I had an accurate read for boiling. After calibrating, I fired up the stovetop and started to finish the sap. Temperature for our area for boiling registered just over 210* on my thermometer. After adding 7.5 degrees for proper syrup production, I settled on just over 218* as the temp for finishing our syrup.

Checking the temperature

Almost there!

When the syrup hit the desired temperature, I pulled it from the heat. Pouring it through some cheesecloth, I filtered the little bit of sandy sediment from the syrup, and filled my containers. I used two quart jars and estimate that I have about 40 ounces of finished syrup. I found, after cooling, that the syrup was a bit more runny than I had imagined it would be. However, the taste was amazing! I believe that the syrup has a tiny taste of wood smoke as well. (At least that was our general consensus at dinner when we all sampled it).

Here’s the final product:

Please feel free to comment below and provide tips, hints, advice, point out errors, or other helpful information in the maple syrup production process. I am new at this and am eager to learn from others!

Postscript: Today was not without incident. I had purchased a quart sized bottle at Goodwill. It had a log cabin design and I found that a cork from one of my favorite wines, (French Lick Winery), fit it perfectly. When I started pouring the syrup into a funnel to fill this special (25 cent) jar, I noticed the sediment. I immediately stopped and dumped the syrup back in the pot. Without thinking, I took the jar and stuck it under the water flowing from the tap. It immediately cracked! I was really bummed that it no longer would be able to be used to hold syrup. Overall the day was a success though!

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https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2016/02/12/sappy-post-1st-try-at-maple-sap-to-syrup/feed/0gracedependentIMG_3911IMG_3873IMG_3913IMG_3920IMG_3923IMG_3927IMG_3929IMG_3930Homemade, Repurposed, Coffee Scented Candleshttps://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2016/01/23/homemade-repurposed-coffee-scented-candles/
https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2016/01/23/homemade-repurposed-coffee-scented-candles/#respondSat, 23 Jan 2016 18:39:28 +0000http://gracedependent.com/?p=6487Continue reading →]]>I had just sat down at the table this morning, after cleaning up a bit in the kitchen after making breakfast, and wondered if there was anything I could do with the coffee grounds I had just thrown away. In months past I would throw the grounds outside to benefit the worms, flowerbeds, garden, etc. But it’s winter now and surely there had to be something more creative, right? And, besides, I’m getting into all this “homesteading” stuff and would like to do something worthwhile. Well, enter the thought of “coffee scented candles”.

I’m currently drinking some illy coffee. This is some of the best tasting coffee I’ve ever enjoyed. I will always prefer my Mondulkiri coffee from Cambodia, but sometimes that’s not available. Enter the illy brand. Love it. Love. Love. Love it. Enough said.

Here are the items you’ll need to make a candle similar to mine:

Wax: can be remnants of previously used candles, or a chunk of wax (like my ten pounder in the pic)

Wax mold – I used jelly jars, but you can use a paper cup and cut it away after the wax hardens

Used coffee grinds – yes, I dug mine back out of the trash (luckily they landed correctly in the coffee filter)

Couple of pots to make a double boiler

Pencils – I use them to keep the wicks straight (see pics later)

Cleaver – I got mine in Cambodia, but you may not want to go that far. I use this for everything, just like the Khmer. These cleavers are so handy and I like to keep them sharp.

Since my coffee grounds were wet from this morning’s brew, I dried them in the oven at 175*. I didn’t time it, because I’m assuming you have enough common sense to tell when the grounds are dry.

I made a double boiler, inserted the wax in the upper pot and commenced to melting. It’s pretty straightforward and simple to do. It took maybe 5-7 minutes to melt all the wax I needed for my two candles.

While the wax was melting, I took my two jelly jars, placed the pencils with wicks attached (with duct tape, of course) on top, and placed some coffee grounds as a base.

I then poured the wax into the jars, about a 1/4 way high, using a small funnel. I will tell you this: don’t use the funnel. Not only do you not need it if you are careful, it simply clogs up with dried wax while you are waiting for the level to dry. Live and learn!

While the wax was hardening, (I allowed for 20 minutes at a time), I placed the pot of melted wax back on the double boiler. During the 20 minute wait time, I was “Youtubing” videos on various other projects to tackle.

After the timer went off indicating 20 minutes had past, I placed more coffee grounds into the jelly jar. Now, I started with “8 cups” worth of coffee grounds, so that gave me plenty to use in both jelly jars. If you don’t drink as much coffee as I do, you’ll need to save up your grounds for a few months. Ha.

I simply repeated that process several times. (Four times if you count the levels, but hey, to each their own).

I then allowed the candles to cool completely and without placing them in the refrigerator. Hey, it’s winter in Indiana and our house is chilly. It didn’t take long. I don’t think the scent is very strong (which is a good thing), but it will be a subtle aroma when burning.

I hope you enjoyed this compost of how to repurpose your used coffee grounds. Never, never, place fresh coffee in a candle – to do such a thing is a crime against humanity. Ha! Always enjoy your coffee once, and look for ways to enjoy it again!

If you have ideas of how to repurpose used coffee grounds, place them in the comment section below and I’ll add them to my list of ideas. If you are reading this on Facebook, click through and place your comments in the comment section at GraceDependent.

Have fun, live life fully, and love all you come in contact with!

]]>https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2016/01/23/homemade-repurposed-coffee-scented-candles/feed/0gracedependentIMG_3810IMG_3794IMG_3791IMG_3793IMG_3788IMG_3790IMG_3801IMG_3803IMG_3808IMG_3809Homesteading?https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2016/01/23/homesteading/
https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2016/01/23/homesteading/#respondSat, 23 Jan 2016 17:13:15 +0000http://gracedependent.com/?p=6483Continue reading →]]>As I was doing some reading & research for raising rabbits (wow – that alliteration shows that I may be closer to my pastoral roots than imagined or desired), I came across a voluminous amount of websites and videos dedicated to “Homesteading”. As I read with curiosity, I realized that I truly desired to move that direction with our lifestyle.

I could probably look up the definition of Homesteading, but I’ll give you what I came up with when asked by someone to give my thoughts on what it is:

Homesteading [to me] is the desire to live life responsibly. To be responsible with one’s resources, seeking to get the most out of them (again, responsibly), always seeking to respect everyone and everything.

This way of life means that I will do more than just place my plastic in the recycle bin. I will seek to repurpose,reuse, and reflect a caretaker mentality in all that I do. It means more than raising chickens. Being a homesteader requires a humble attitude, coupled with a desire to lead others into a beneficial lifestyle that will bring peace and joy, even to future generations.

I’m curious as to what you think homesteading is. I am also open to any links, tips or advice you might have, as we begin this crazy journey on our little parcel of ground in small town Indiana.

]]>https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2016/01/23/homesteading/feed/0gracedependentHSRearview Mirror 2015https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2016/01/01/rearview-mirror-2015/
https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2016/01/01/rearview-mirror-2015/#respondFri, 01 Jan 2016 17:00:05 +0000http://gracedependent.com/?p=6472And just like that, another year gone. Raise your glass to 2015 and drain it for 2016.

When I awoke at my alarm ringing this am, I was intrigued to find my left arm had no feeling: good, bad, indifferent. When showering I noticed some popping and sensitivity at the shoulder and very slight pain in the arm. What to make of it?

This is what concerns me: the ebb and flow of pain. I don’t understand it. If it hurt all the time I would think something is wrong, but these days give me fragile hope that it fixed itself. Ha

Sometimes on days like today I wonder if I’m healed. But then I feel a twinge of pain and my faith erodes.

That’s just how the struggle goes.

]]>https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/12/23/why-you-cant-understand-someone-who-suffers-with-chronic-pain/feed/0gracedependentImagine.https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/12/17/imagine/
https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/12/17/imagine/#respondThu, 17 Dec 2015 12:52:36 +0000http://gracedependent.com/?p=6464Continue reading →]]>Imagine you live in a third world country. No matter that you know the language, are learning the customs, and can move fairly easily throughout the country. You still live under a constant stress. It’s not an overwhelming stress, but it is still a burden to your heart, soul and even body. Because no matter how acclimated you are, this culture isn’t your culture.

Stress.

Imagine you’ve lived in Southeast Asia with your family (wife & four young children) for three years. Three years of missed holidays with family and friends. Yes, you are living there for a noble cause: working to bring justice and healing to children. But three years of seeing social media posts and pictures of friends and families gathering and enjoying the holidays together. You Skype and Google Hangout, but it just isn’t quite the same.

Stress.

Imagine the excitement of planning a retreat to a neighboring country for the Christmas holiday. The children will forgo presents so that you, on your tight missionary budget, can afford the transportation costs, the lodging costs, and the meal costs – just so you can bring a bit of relaxation and rest to your stressed family.

Anticipation!

Imagine a late night / early morning, lonely moto ride, eagerly looking forward to crawling into bed after a long day (and night) of intense work. As you ride your moto, suddenly you are struck by a car, which leaves you crumpled on the side of the road. The car speeds away. You are seriously injured. Your moto is wrecked. You are alone and in danger. In nothing less than a miracle, you make it to a Khmer friend’s home where you collapse in their doorway. They contact your wife, and begin the process of getting you medical help. Your moto only drives in circles – how did you get there? God.

Imagine now that your only concern is getting healed up. Christmas travel plans are canceled. Medical procedures have to be redone. There are possible needs to travel to a neighboring country to receive skin grafts. There is a lot on your plate, and you don’t know where to turn, except God.

Stress.

Imagine that you are in the “Western” world reading this. My friend, Matt, is experiencing all of what I have written above. He needs help. If I could describe Matt to you, it would be this way: Matt would be your perfect brother. Funny, witty, smart, and a heart that is bigger than anyone I know. He cares about people. He’s given up a “normal” life and dedicated his own to rescuing those who’ve been exploited. He also desires to see these children grow into beautiful futures. He gives his time, his own limited resources and now, his body to the cause God has laid on his heart.

Matt, and his wife Kimbra, need our help. There is a Go Fund Me campaign started to help offset some of the expenses they have incurred. You can find it located here.

Please consider how you can help: Pray. Give. Share.

And imagine the encouragement you can provide to Matt & his family this Christmas.

I was reading in the Psalms this morning – just browsing, not “studying”. Psalm 46 is a familiar and significant passage for me. It has a depth of meaning that I enjoy immersing in from time to time. This morning, however, I was struck by the very last verse in this passage:

The LORD of heaven’s armies is here among us; the God of Israel is our fortress.

I have never pictured the Christ in his advent as a warrior. Rather, I have always pictured him as a delicate babe, wholly dependent on others. And he was. But in those rags lay swaddled a Warrior King. One who, shrouded in flesh like mine, became my sin and battled death in my place. Motivated by love, he conquered all the evil that I have embraced. He brought Peace to me. And when he finished writing his name on my heart, he promised never to leave me or forsake me, becoming the fortress in which I now reside.

The mild temperatures in Indiana this weekend provided the perfect time to tackle a fun project of repurposing in my garage. I decided to embark on half of a project that has been brewing in my mind since our return to our house earlier this year. I have been brainstorming an “indoor / outdoor” chicken coop. The idea is to take an existing window on a structure and allow the laying hens to freely move from inside the structure (thereby escaping the extremes of weather) to outside the structure in a wire encased house. [No, this is not going on my house].

The challenge lay in the knowledge that I really didn’t have much money to purchase new materials. I began to poke around my garage and I ended up with the perfect outside hen house. I found a partial roll of garden wire, an 8′ 2×4, some 2×4 and 2×6 cutoffs from a purchase of firewood, a ping pong table half, a section of pvc pipe, a wooden dowel rod, and some shingle cutoffs.

The house frame used up the 8′ 2×4 fairly quickly. I found some cutoffs to finish it nicely. For the roof, I found two truss cutoffs that matched angle and length. I cut the ping pong table to my desired dimensions. I then sorted the shingle strips and tackled the roofing. (I’m thankful we don’t have hurricanes in Indiana). The sides and floor were covered with the garden wire. The 4″ pvc pipe was cut with my saw to create a feed trough. I smoothed the edges with a Dremel tool. The dowel rod reinforced the garden wire where it met the pvc feed trough.

The entire process probably took 8 hours. The reason for such a long project time was partially due to my lacking skilz in construction. I carry in my mind’s eye exactly what I want. Getting it to actually show up on my workbench is always a challenge. All in all, I am pleased with the fact that I took advantage of the milder winter temperatures, kept my mind off some challenges I’ve been facing lately physically, and got half of a desired project done.

I’ll post the other half when it gets finished…if the milder temperatures hold. Ha.

]]>https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/12/13/hammerin-on-a-hen-house/feed/0gracedependent2015-12-13 17.19.592015-12-13 17.35.052015-12-13 17.20.552015-12-13 17.20.13Punctual and Periodic Painhttps://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/12/09/punctual-and-periodic-pain/
https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/12/09/punctual-and-periodic-pain/#respondThu, 10 Dec 2015 02:09:43 +0000http://gracedependent.com/?p=6443Continue reading →]]>I never know what I’ll feel like in the morning. Never. I’m not talking about the pain, stiffness or muscle soreness that accompanies a good workout or that follows a difficult chore. I’m talking about going to bed feeling good and waking up with odd pain, sharp pain, joint pain, soft tissue pain, weird pain – sometimes just one of these, some days a sadistic cocktail of all of these.

Today was a weird day.

I woke up at 4:45a, just before my 5a alarm, to get up and do my exercises designed to strengthen my core and stretch tightened muscles. My back hurt – but it always hurts. My shoulder was sore, but that is becoming fairly common. Today the arches of my feet hurt with such stabbing pain, that I could barely walk out of the bedroom. I hobbled to the thermostat, turned up the temp (we sleep at 58* at our home), and stiffly walked to the living-room. I cranked on the gas fireplace, fell into the couch and grabbed a blanket.

No exercises this morning.

It sucks. Some days I will awaken and feel like I don’t have anything wrong with my body. Perhaps a couple stiff joints or two, but nothing that I would complain about. And then there’s days when I feel that I’ve been run over by a semi-truck. It hurts to get dressed. Pants rubbing my left leg suffering from neuropathy drives me mad. A slap on the back, a firm handshake, or anything similar can cause my body to burn in pain.

And I don’t get to quit on my responsibilities, my family, my job…my life. No matter how badly I feel, kids still need rides to school, work still needs to get done, family matters need attended to, and life goes on.

I have medication,but I have to have my wife manage my pills due to my addiction of pain-killers. I thought I had a handle on it, but next thing you know I’m seeking just an hour or two of pain-free living, just a moment, anything – just give me a break! Those couple of pills turned to a few, which turned to a quick recognition that I was going no where good and headed there fast.

Again.

It’s true: Chronic Pain is hell.

But then there’s good days.

Maybe tomorrow will be one of those.

]]>https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/12/09/punctual-and-periodic-pain/feed/0gracedependentcphlLessons From the Pinehttps://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/12/04/lessons-from-the-pine/
https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/12/04/lessons-from-the-pine/#commentsSat, 05 Dec 2015 01:45:16 +0000http://gracedependent.com/?p=6434Continue reading →]]>It’s only been six months since I last posted. I almost forgot how to do this.

Cut-offs & Cast-aways

This afternoon it dawned on me that I had received a tangible illustration of an earlier conversation from this morning. Early in the day I met with a friend to discuss some issues that I am facing in life. I needed counsel, reassurance, and another set of eyes on my situation. During the conversation we discussed about how God views us. It’s never been a secret that I struggle with how God views me. Partly due to the way I perceive my upbringing, wrong theology that has bored its way into my heart over time, and spiritual attack, I constantly battle with the idea that God is somehow disgusted with me. And, with such thinking, am constantly bombarded with fear that God is going to toss me to the side with an exasperated sigh.

Not so.

How I am overwhelmed with the reminders that God always views me as accepted and as a prized possession! Whether through a sermon at our church, Mission Point Community Church, or through conversations with a friend, I have been reminded, time and again, that I am a crucial and beneficial…and loved…child of God.

Here’s the tangible part:

I am preparing for the upcoming maple syrup season. Today I made a run to Nappanee where I loaded a trailer load of cut-off 2x4s for future use in the boiling process. As I was stacking this wood in my garage tonight, I realized that I had my hands on a perfect illustration of what I had been mulling over all day. See, these odds and ends of pine lumber are thrown into a huge pile and designated as “waste” by the truss company. The company can’t use these small, cast-away cut-offs. Since they serve no purpose, they are thrown out.

But usefulness is in the eye of the owner.

Once I saw these cut-offs and paid the going rate to purchase a trailer load, I had in my possession a key component in being successful in the maple syrup process! In fact, I would not be able to do what I desire without these “cast-aways”. These awkward, mis-fit pieces of wood – (none of which are the same) – will become the kindling and fuel for an extremely hot fire to boil maple sap down. They will play a vital role in allowing us to produce that liquid, amber gold, known as maple syrup.

Other people may not see the value in these pieces of cut-offs, but I do. In fact, I treasure them. I needed them so much that I was willing to pay a price to secure them as mine. They are valuable to me.

And, so it is with Jesus and me. In the past few years I’ve heard the statements, absorbed the pain and rejection, and began to believe the deception. But Jesus never wavered in his belief that I was worth it. I was worth the price he paid. And, no matter how awkward I appear, or mis-fit I seem to others, I will be used by Jesus to bring about something that matters a lot to him.

It’s an amazing thing to realize that I am still desirable in the eyes of God. Issues, failures, dis-belief and all.

Worship simply exalts Christ at Mission Point Community Church. The one thing our family craved upon our return from Cambodia,where we worshiped at ICA in Phnom Penh, was a similar environment that held Christ high and pointed all who came, to Him. It was one of the first things that refreshed us, and impressed us deeply about MPCC.

Today, the last song in our worship set was “Last Word” by Elevation Worship. It will be one song that will be playing on my phone repeatedly this week. I have grown to love its message. Here are the lyrics (a video will follow):

The storm rises from the deep
And rages around me
But I will remember
When doubt wars within my heart
The battle almost lost
I will remember

You have the last word
It is finished
You have the last word
It is finished
My fear is silenced in Your love
My hope is endless

Your voice that calmed the violent sea
Speaks courage over me
So I will remember
The words that wake the sun to rise
Are breaking through my night
And I will remember

You have the last word
It is finished
You have the last word
It is finished
My fear is silenced in Your love
My hope is endless

Your word stands through the ages
Your voice shatters the darkness
In You we are more than conquerors
You speak and strongholds surrender
Your name overcomes the enemy
In You we are more than conquerors

You have the last word
It is finished
You have the last word
It is finished
My fear is silenced in Your love
My hope is endless

Your word stands through the ages
Your voice shatters the darkness
In You we are more than conquerors
You speak and strongholds surrender
Your name overcomes the enemy
In You we are more than conquerors

I don’t know what you are facing, enduring, rejoicing in, battling or struggling with – but this truth remains: Jesus has the last word. Hold on, friend. We are more than conquerors.

For riches and abundance come hypocritically clad in sheep’s clothing, pretending to be security against anxieties, and they become then the object of anxiety … they secure a man against anxieties just about as well as the wolf which is put to tending the sheep secures them against the wolf…” – Søren Kierkegaard

]]>https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/05/20/money-anxiety-sheep/feed/0gracedependent1lambsWhat the Spirit Told Me at Burket UMChttps://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/04/26/what-the-spirit-told-me-at-burket-umc/
https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/04/26/what-the-spirit-told-me-at-burket-umc/#respondSun, 26 Apr 2015 21:18:32 +0000http://gracedependent.com/?p=6418Continue reading →]]>A friend, Kevin Shelton (Director of Our Master’s Camp rehab center), was speaking in the little burg of Burket at the United Methodist Church. We decided to drop into the service and listen Saturday night as we would be not able to catch him at his Sunday meeting at CBC in Leesburg. I have always enjoyed listening to the Word that Kevin brings. He is a passionate, fiery preacher who desperately wants to share the message that God has given him. Every time I have sat under his preaching I have come away blessed and challenged. It’s what I expected Saturday night. What I didn’t expect was what the Spirit had in store for me.

What I thought was for me, wasn’t…kind of.

Kevin was speaking out of 1 Samuel 30. I’ll let you read it on your own. Kevin was speaking about how, as David & his men experienced the loss of families & possessions, they wept and eventually his men turned on him desiring to kill him. Kevin related in passing that sometimes it’s those we had cared about the most, those from whom we wouldn’t expect the attack, that bring us the greatest hurt. And I’ll be honest…I thought that this word was for me. I was like, “Yes, Lord. This is a confirmation of what we’ve gone through in this past year. This is exactly how we feel: whether people understand or not, they have hurt us, they’ve said things and done things that have hurt us tremendously. These are people we’ve ministered alongside of, ministered to, poured life & resources into and now…this.” I was in tears sitting in the pew at the UMC.

I’m so glad Kevin kept reading & preaching.

Kevin drew our attention to verse 6 of chapter 30. The last sentence in the verse says:

But David strengthened himself in the Lord his God.

Kevin went on to share that there were going to be times in our lives that there wasn’t going to be anyone else around that would be able to encourage us, and that we were going to have to “encourage ourselves in our God”. Oh! This is the word I needed!! The Spirit very clearly showed me that I had, for too long, been looking to others for encouragement and approval. So much of my life had been reliant on what others have thought of me. This is something burned into my being from as far back as I can recall. Only now am I making progress on this realization! Glory! It is never too late to grow in the grace & knowledge of Jesus Christ. God’s Spirit gently took me to a place of admonishment, and then, as I realized where I had been wrong, generously covered me with grace in bringing me to a right place.

But wait! There’s more!

The Spirit really moved in my heart throughout the service. He significantly dealt with me as I stated above, but he also encouraged me in many other ways. Another important realization came as Kevin was sharing a story from the Gospels. As he reminded us how the demons cower at the name of Jesus, I was encouraged with this truth: A substantial time of personal growth occurs when I realize that all the condemnation, the accusations, and the failures that Satan throws up in my face daily, they weaken in control over me at the name of Jesus! Jesus has conquered all and given me all victory when it comes to my past, present and any future struggles! As one of my favorite songs reminds me, Jesus “breaks every chain“. May I never forget the stammer in the voices of the demons when I call upon the name of Jesus! I caught this comment in passing, “You’ll be amazed at what the devil gives up when God moves in”.

Another quick exhortation came when Kevin said, “Churches often become pep rallies where nobody plays the game”. Wow. God, keep your Church from becoming that!

Finally,

God, thank you so much for never giving up on me! Keep me passionate about growing and becoming more like Jesus. Keep me overwhelmed with the grace you lavish on me in Jesus Christ. Help me hear clearly what your Spirit is communicating to me. Keep me sensitive to his voice and direction.

Qualifier: Jesus Christ continues to graciously, and patiently, take me to the next level. These posts are my simple processing of that journey.

Today at our church, Mission Point Community Church, our pastor, Kondo Simfukwe, started a new sermon series called, “Taboo: Happy, Except When I’m Not”. The series is on emotions. I realize that as you read that last sentence, you most likely had some sort of reaction. I know just several weeks ago, I would have. And the reaction would have been a rolling of my christian eyes followed by a smug, scholarly theological smirk. Emotions are for weak & immature believers while theology & “real” faith are for the intellectuals. Well, God is showing me how wrong I’ve been in this area of (everyone’s) life. Sad, but true: the farther I go on this journey, the more I realize how little I really knew. But this fact is true: (a truth from our small group today & Colossians 1): “…he has brought you into his own presence, and you are holy and blameless as you stand before him without a single fault…” (Col 1:22 NLT) So, with those basic thoughts of where I’ve been and where I’m headed, here’s my notes from today’s message:

Why it is important to talk about emotions within the Church:

Four Reasons:

We are driven by emotion

The greatest motivator for what you do, or what you choose, is driven by feeling: primarily happiness.

It’s amazing how hard the Church tries to make happiness not a feeling and joy not an experience

We were created emotional beings

The fact that we (all) were created with emotions was God’s decision, not yours. We, regardless of what we may say or prefer, are filled with the complete gamut of human emotions

Being emotional beings is part of being created in the image of God. Genesis 1:26. God created us in His likeness, complete with emotions.

If I claim to be in a growing relationship with Christ and I am not enjoying him more now than I have in the past, then I am not growing. Is there a growing delight in my relationship with Jesus?

God’s promises are for the emotional

2 Corinthians 1:3-4 – God’s promises are for the emotional

Psalm 34:18 – If I refuse to acknowledge and allow for emotions, then I am missing out on the closeness of God.

Usually by Tuesday of every week, the sermon is posted on MPCC’s website. I encourage you to take some time and watch it. In fact, I encourage you to come visit our church and hear first hand this series called, “Taboo”.

Help: How have you seen the Church correctly encourage Christ followers in dealing with the emotions of life? Have you seen incorrect teaching within the Church when it comes to matters of faith & emotion? How could you encourage church leadership to take a more biblical stance on this issue of emotions?

“Can you last 7 minutes?” That was the question that has been rolling through my head for the past several weeks. I’ve been wanting to do something exercise related for some time now, but just kept pushing those thoughts out of my mind. What was really bothering me was looking at pictures of our time in Cambodia. I was down to 188 pounds (a personal best, not seen since my freshman year of college). I had peaked, before going to Southeast Asia, at about 227 pounds. A sedentary job as a pastor, long hours & poor choices when it came to both diet and exercise, partnering with three years of inability to do much due to chronic pain & two back surgeries, had led me to this point.

Cambodia

Cambodia was great for us and our health. We ate better there than we ever had in our marriage! Fresh fruit, fresh produce, less meat, less processed foods – and less money – all contributed to a diet that lent itself to allowing our bodies to change for the better. The heat & humidity helped the fat drop off quite rapidly. Walking further for either bananas, or to go to the market, or just for recreation, in the tropical climate also helped my body shed the weight and tone up. One of the Australian ANZ banks I would visit on occasion also had a bathroom scale in the lobby (I know, I loved things like this in SEA). I would weigh every time I made a transaction.

Return to the States

Weeks before returning to the States, I found myself beginning to make some poor dietary choices again. A high-level of stress was contributing to my actions and reactions. The weight started to sneak back. I wasn’t worried. I figured if I could stay around 200 pounds, it would be a healthy place for me. So, with that resignation to begin to allow the weight back on, I threw in the towel on any kind of watching over my health. When we got back to the States, I indulged. Frankly, and honestly, I haven’t stopped indulging for some time. There were foods I had missed and places I craved and beverages I had been relying on for some time. The pounds have packed on. I went to find a bathroom scale at the local Dollar General, but they didn’t carry them. I’ll get one tomorrow, but if I had to guess, I would wager that I am pushing 230 pounds and may very well have sneaked by it. (My gosh, did I just post that on the interwebz?) I’m not content to stay here.

Seven Minute Workout

I think around New Year’s Day I had heard about a workout app called the “7 minute workout“. Check out the link, but the short version is this: you do 12 exercises for 30 seconds each with 10 seconds rest in between. You only get good results if you go high-intensity (that means go as hard as you can for 30 seconds straight) and only rest for the allotted 10 seconds. It doesn’t sound that difficult – especially if you are in shape and athletic. But it is a regimen designed “for the masses”, not necessarily for those athletes already in shape. Here are the exercises:

Jumping Jacks

Wall Sit

Push-Ups

Abdominal Crunches

Chair Step Ups

Squats

Chair Triceps Dips

Planks

High Knees Running in Place

Lunges

Push-Ups with Rotation

Side Planks

The beauty is that you don’t need equipment, and it only lasts 7 minutes. They recommend working up to doing 2-3 reps of the workout eventually.

The Question

So the question has been rolling around in my mind, “Can you last seven minutes?” My main concern was that I was going to have a heart attack and die on the living room floor. No joke. I get winded just horsing around. (I know – it’s sad, I’m being honest here) And I kept wanting to pull my “I’ve had major back surgeries – no one would fault me for going easy” card. Truth is, if I shed the weight, my back will thank me! Tonight, while listening to my audiobook, “Good to Go” by Harry Constance (a book on the Navy Seals in Vietnam), I decided to cowboy up and begin the workout. As they say, “The only easy day was yesterday”.

I’m no SEAL, no military trained man, nor do I think I could do any of what these guys do.

But I need to get back into shape. And that sucks. But, the reality is, the only way to make it happen is to man up and just do it.

So I did. I clicked the “Start” button on my iPhone app and gave it my best. I sucked wind and felt like I was going to puke Guiness Blonde & venison and noodles all over the place. But I did it. I lasted seven minutes.

And then….

and then…

and then I went for a walk. I needed the cool-down time any way, but I decided to just keep moving. And I’m proud of myself. I don’t know the schedule of how this will shake out, but I am determined to keep at it. I would like to see the underside of 200 pounds again. I’ve done it once, I think I can do it again. I’ve decided to make some diet choices that will assist me in this endeavor. There’s no magic in seven minutes. But there is magic in moving. And I’m going to move. After all, once you get all this mass going, it’s hard to stop.

Help

What tips and tricks do you have for maintaining proper weight and conditioning? Maybe you have diet tips or healthy snack ideas – I’d be up for anything you could offer.

I saw the elderly couple approaching the counter as I was diagnosing a beat down Hoover Windtunnel vacuum on my workbench. First of all, let me say that I’m unsure of the confidentiality agreements that tie vac repairmen and customers together. I don’t think I’ll breach any if they exist. Secondly, I only refer to the couple as “elderly” because, as you’ll soon see, they were – even though their enthusiasm and zest for life indicated otherwise.

He wore a neatly formed “NK” seed hat perched lightly on his head. A windbreaker covered his plaid shirt, which was tucked neatly into his bluejeans. She was pulling at her sweater unconsciously, as if any interaction at a service desk made her feel somewhat out of place. She looked around at the fabric just across the aisle as if to betray her heart’s true desires. Both faces were pleasantly weathered, with laugh-lines creasing outward from their eyes and mouths. I was with another customer who arrived at the back of the store just seconds before they had, but caught his eye as if to let him know that I would be with him momentarily. His smile relayed that he was perfectly willing to wait patiently until I was finished.

An old, stretched and broken vacuum belt lay on the counter. As we chit-chatted about the vac while I pulled a new replacement off the wall peg, he indicated that the “ol’ vac” had inadvertently sucked in an object that caused the brushroll to stop spinning and, as a result, “smoked the belt”. Then he offered up a broken light bulb, pulled gently from a neatly folded plastic baggie. I found a replacement and proceeded to ring up the sale. His wife, at this time, checked over the belt & bulb as if to ensure he had received the correct items. I thought to myself that she had probably “worried” over her husband in tens of thousands of ways over the years.

And that thought is what prompted me to ask the question.

How long have you all been married?

Now, rarely do I delve into people’s personal lives while at work, but this seemed to be a safe time and couple to speak with. His head snapped up from its bent position as he had been gazing at his gnarled hand fingering his change, and his eyes twinkled brightly. He didn’t at first respond verbally, but he had made sort of a chuckle. At this point she leaned in closer to him and it was as if I saw them transported back decades. Her eyes were smiling from behind her pinkishly framed bifocals. He bantered back, “How long do you think?”. Now, at this point, I have learned to proceed carefully. He never let me venture a guess. “Fifty-six years”, he proudly exclaimed. “Fifty-six!”, I repeated. At that point we began a conversation that revealed some personal, familial anecdotes that, while happy & sad, are best left to the confines of our memories. The conversation lasted only a couple of minutes.

I indicated that my wife & I were approaching 25 years of wedded bliss and asked them if they had any tips for us. At first, she thought I had asked them about being married another 25 years and her response was beautiful and humorous. When they realized what I was requesting, both replied:

You just need to learn to give a little.

That little phrase had kept them happily married for well-over half a century. He stated, while she dreamily looked on shaking her head affirmatively, that “Sometimes she does things I don’t like, and sometimes I do things she don’t like…but you just need to learn to give a little.” And, after providing me with that decades old, proven wisdom, they began to make their way out of the store. She was clucking over him as they turned, making sure he had his new belt & bulb, and I stood at the counter watching them until they left the store.

I can’t think of a better definition of love than, “just learn to give a little”. See, giving to your spouse is not a natural bent or desire. It is a learned process. And love, and giving, isn’t best dosed all in gargantuan events that only come periodically. Typically it is best received and enjoyed as it is meted out “a little” at a time, over years and decades of doing life together. I don’t know if I’ll ever see this couple again. Chances are that I won’t, unless that belt or bulb wears out. I do know that I will carry their advice in my mind, and hopefully demonstrated in my marriage, for a long time to come.

Thanks for coming in, friends. You’ve no idea how much sharing a little advice is going to help this “youngster” love into his next 25 years of marriage.

Hoping to keep the fire burning for decades to come!

]]>https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/04/04/just-give-a-little-or-marriage-advice-at-the-vacuum-counter/feed/0gracedependent1give2015-03-01 18.47.56Landing in Haiti: Not What I Expectedhttps://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/02/15/landing-in-haiti-not-what-i-expected/
https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/02/15/landing-in-haiti-not-what-i-expected/#respondSun, 15 Feb 2015 14:41:29 +0000http://gracedependent.com/?p=6400Continue reading →]]>Really short post today straight out of my Haiti journal. It was my first time to land in Port au Prince this past January. As we descended through a very overcast, gray sky, I caught my first glance of this island. Strangely, I wasn’t surprised at what I saw. It could have been one of several countries I’ve traveled through. What caught me off guard was the song that came on loudspeakers as we taxied to the terminal.

Yep! An instrumental version of Owl City’s Fire Flies. Somehow, looking out on the clouded, gray landscape, with rain drizzling down the window, it just wasn’t what I expected. But then again, God always does that in some way, doesn’t he? The entire week became a continual “This is what I have for you”…even though I never expected it.

]]>https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/02/15/landing-in-haiti-not-what-i-expected/feed/0gracedependentFrom the Mountain to the Mid-west: Worship in Haiti & at Homehttps://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/02/12/from-the-mountain-to-the-mid-west-worship-in-haiti-at-home/
https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/02/12/from-the-mountain-to-the-mid-west-worship-in-haiti-at-home/#respondThu, 12 Feb 2015 14:30:28 +0000http://gracedependent.com/?p=6372Continue reading →]]>I was driving my family to our church, Mission Point Community Church, in Warsaw, Indiana, and I was reflecting over the past seven days. Less than a week ago I was worshiping on a sunny mountaintop in Canaan, Haiti and this week found myself worshiping with family & friends in wintery Indiana. Sometimes our modern conveniences (air travel, technology, etc) don’t allow for adequate processing time. It boggled my mind how I could so easily be in two different countries, in such contrasting settings, and yet feel such a kindred Spirit with those I worshiped with.

This tent structure on top of the mountain serves as an assembly point for our brothers & sisters in Canaan. This tent is a blessing! Not long ago the church met here on this land, under this blazing sun, without benefit of any shelter.

The church was our central meeting point throughout our time in Haiti. We would meet there in the morning and then make our way out onto the paths to visit various families living in tiny shelters dotting the harsh landscape. This locale was where we held a special kid’s club and showed the Jesus Film in their native Creole. Over 110 kids squeezed into this structure and sat quietly, enraptured with the film & story of our Lord & Savior, Jesus Christ. Below is a picture of that gathering just before we started the film:

We arrived on Sunday during what many in the States might call “Sunday School”. During this hour, the church is taught by its pastor from a booklet. There is a lot of repeating after the pastor, as in several countries around the world where God’s Word is not readily possessed by many of the people, on the mountain it appears they learn by rote memory. It is an effective means of retaining the teaching.

After that first hour, during which many people kept coming and filling up the structure, the worship service began. Just as in many churches around the world, there was singing, announcements, the reading of the Bible, special ministries of prayer & music, and preaching. I videoed some of the singing, although I just pointed the camera to the ground so as not to be a distraction in worship. Maybe you’ll recognize the tune:

After the service we had the opportunity to pray over two men who had come to Christ during our time there in Canaan. Both men had physical handicaps – one was severely hindered in his sight and the other not only had sight problems but had some painful hernia issues as well. I prayed specifically that God would see fit to heal them for the glory of Jesus Christ. I was moved by the Spirit to pray this way, and I trust that God is doing a work so that these men would be living, vibrant testimonies to the grace found in their Healer & Savior!

Here’s another shot of the church and the property around it:

Looking out over Canaan from a gap in the tent wall of the church. There are still hundreds of thousands of people relocating here who are in need of Jesus Christ. This church is passionate about reaching these people. Pray that they will remain faithful, beaming lights in the darkness around them for the glory of Jesus’ name!

]]>https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/02/12/from-the-mountain-to-the-mid-west-worship-in-haiti-at-home/feed/0gracedependentCanaan Church2015-01-31 13.16.40-12015-02-01 11.52.052015-01-30 14.07.592015-01-31 09.24.31She Wrote Her Name on My Hand: Haitihttps://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/02/10/she-wrote-her-name-on-my-hand-haiti/
https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/02/10/she-wrote-her-name-on-my-hand-haiti/#respondWed, 11 Feb 2015 04:09:28 +0000http://gracedependent.com/?p=6382Continue reading →]]>I was the last of our group to enter the construction site. We were led there by the pastor’s wife, Esther, who felt Holy Spirit was telling her to visit this home. Although the owners of the property were not available, there were a couple of men mixing concrete by hand and fashioning them into bricks. They welcomed a brief reprieve from the heat as we asked them if we could talk with them. Our group was in Canaan, Haiti for the express purpose of evangelizing alongside Haitian church members. Today there was myself and three other team members, along with Esther going around the mountain to various homes.

I had been privately frustrated by my lack of opportunity to share. Don’t get me wrong, I knew I had a vital part on this team. I was praying while others spoke, praying over individuals and homes as asked and attempting to encourage others who were sharing. On this particular day I felt that Holy Spirit was leading me to share my personal story of coming to know Christ. I thought I would share it with men, and so this specific stop had piqued my interest tremendously. God had other plans however, (maybe that will be another blog post?), and today He had someone special for me to meet.

As the conversation was ongoing, there were several children milling around (we always attracted a crowd). This particular group consisted of several small boys and a couple young Haitian girls. They were playing noisily and distracting the men from the conversation (one of the children’s fathers was one of the workers). I soon realized that my contribution to the ongoing dialogue would be to occupy the kid’s attentions. I speak no Creole and I thought none of the kids spoke English. They were intrigued by my tattoos, (I guess they really are permanent, Lord knows they tried to rub them off), and also by the hair on my arm. No amount of pulling, rubbing or patting could satiate their curiosity. Soon the older of the two girls took my hand and read my shirt in halting English: “…Love all, Worship One…”. I realized that at the very least she could sound out English and began to try to figure out her name. She took my pen and wrote her name on the palm of my hand, “Stephanie Jasmine”. And with that simple act, God would write her name on my heart.

I wrote my name on a piece of paper, which she quickly read as “Mahk Kell-eee”. With simple introductions finished, we attempted to talk. Neither of us got far, but her smile melted my heart. Soon the “adult” conversation had ended and we walked up the mountain to the church. Stephanie was shy and not too fond of the camera, and so I patiently waited, hoping I could take some pictures so that I could tell my wife and kids about her. Little did I know how we would bond later that week.

On Saturday we arrived in Canaan to take part in the organized Kid’s Club held weekly by the church. Stephanie spotted me in the group and came up and almost whispered, said, “Mahk Kell-eee”. Her smile was big and her eyes twinkled happily. She then joined in the games with the other children. While one of the games was progressing and the kids were becoming very excited, an accident occurred. There are a couple of versions to the story, but all conclude similarly: there was shoving and pushing and then Stephanie was struck in the head by a rock. This quick resort to violence is not an unfamiliar action in many parts of the world. Harsh living conditions (even that doesn’t do it justice) often lead to a harsh way of life. Regardless, Stephanie stood in shock, head down, bleeding profusely from her head. I quickly grabbed my bandana and placed it over the wound, applying pressure, and then led her to sit on a bench under the tent of the church. She barely made a noise but large tears were rolling down her face. One of our translators shared why she was so upset – I ask that you pray for her home life. A neighbor to the church came in the tent and washed Stephanie’s head with my doo-rag and then we bandaged it. Stephanie sat stoically by my side as the games continued outside the tent. She held my hand and smiled weakly as I tried to reassure her that she was “okay”.

The team soon brought the kids into the tent for a coloring activity. Dividing the kids up with “partners”, each group would be given an crayon and they were to color a page that said simply, “God is Love”. Stephanie became my partner. She was still shy about the camera, but I was able to sneak this picture as we worked on her paper:

As Stephanie & I took turns reading, “God is Love” to one another, something resonated in my spirit from my time in Southeast Asia. I took the crayon and wrote, “God loves Stephanie”. These were phrases that we would teach some of the girls we ministered among while in Cambodia. Very simple English phrases that spoke Truth into their lives. Stephanie read the new sentence and smiled broadly. From that moment, she wanted me to take pictures of her paper (and then made sure that no other kids would wiggle their way into my arms for a picture or a look at my iPhone). She was my partner and she wasn’t willing to share.

The following day was Sunday. As our team walked up the mountainside, I saw Stephanie dressed in a beautiful white dress heading down the path. She smiled and grabbed my hand as we got close. I gave her a hug and she continued down the mountain. I was unsure if I would see her again. After the service she showed up and I took the opportunity to take another picture: (I’m not sure who the little guy is, just someone who wanted in the picture I suppose).

Our team had a meeting with the pastor and his wife after the service and it lasted quite a long time. During this time, the kids had left the tent and were wandering around the mountainside. After the meeting was finished, our team began our descent of the mountain. True to form, Stephanie found my hand and communicated that she was going to walk down the mountain with me. We passed her house and she decided to pose for a picture with it.

I am grateful for the minutes that it took to walk down the mountain. I asked one of our translators to communicate some thoughts I had to Stephanie. I communicated how privileged I was to have met her, to know her name and become her friend. I wanted her to know that I would pray for her and that I would remember our time together on the mountain in Canaan. As we neared the base of the mountain, I felt compelled by Holy Spirit to pray over Stephanie. I thought we had one more day to be on the mountain, but decided to follow the impression in my heart. I prayed that Stephanie would grow to be a powerful lady, living for Christ, protected from darkness and a strong influence for the Kingdom on the mountain.

This picture, taken just after that moment, is the last moments I spent with Stephanie. The following day our plans to visit the mountain and say our goodbyes were discarded due to the violent unrest, demonstrations and barricades that were located near our turn-off. I never said “good-bye” to Stephanie. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to. Perhaps I’ll see her again someday – maybe here, maybe There. The ink has worn off my hand, but her memory is still etched deeply in my heart.

]]>https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/02/10/she-wrote-her-name-on-my-hand-haiti/feed/0gracedependentSJsmileSJhand2015-01-29 13.39.282015-01-31 10.31.15 HDR2015-01-31 10.41.442015-02-01 12.06.47 HDR2015-02-01 13.20.162015-02-01 13.23.39Haiti’s Cuisinehttps://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/02/08/haitis-cuisine/
https://gracedependent.wordpress.com/2015/02/08/haitis-cuisine/#respondSun, 08 Feb 2015 14:30:01 +0000http://gracedependent.com/?p=6362Continue reading →]]>One of the things I was eagerly anticipating was trying some new food while in Haiti. I figure I am fairly adventurous and was hoping that we would be able to enjoy some Haitian fare. Due to the schedules we were keeping, our breakfasts were simple (eggs – sometimes fried, sometimes boiled; fresh bread – so enjoyed this, but never took a pic!; bananas & coffee); lunches were just PB&J sandwiches and bananas on the mountain – although many times we were divvying those up for the kids; and the dinners where we would get some regular Haitian food.

We at a lot of chicken legs. I didn’t see any other parts of the chicken being used, and I’m sure the Haitians eat them, but all we received were the legs. They were great! Every dinner we ate had chicken legs, and I enjoyed them. They usually came with black rice & beans, a red sauce with tomatoes or a bean sauce, carrots & onions, some sort of salad (slaw, beet salad – tasted like potato salad, etc) and fried plantains. There was also a garnish of onions and ghost peppers that would light us up – I found it to be very delicious!

Most nights I would wash it all down with some sort of local pop. There was a banana flavored pop which was so sweet, the fruit champagne that tasted like cream soda, and a sweet grape soda. Of course you also could avail yourself of Coke or Pepsi as well. These drinks came in handy when I failed to read the label of a hot sauce bottle and slathered my food with it. Should always go easy when it says “XXX Hot Sauce”.

Of course the fruit we had in Haiti was outstanding. The bananas were sweet and delicious, the pineapple, mangos, and melons were all sweet. We even tried some fruit of which I cannot recall their name, but they were all good.

Those of you who know me, know that I had to try some sort of “street food”. When we had the opportunity to walk through the open air market, I was able to purchase a Haitian pate (pah-tay). This is typically deep fried and filled with some sort of meat and some cabbage (at least that’s what filled mine). It was excellent! I shared with the two guys I was with as we walked down the street back toward our tap-tap. It was exactly what I wanted and we enjoyed it immensely.

While the food was not the primary reason for being in Haiti, we were fortunate to enjoy the tastes of this beautiful country even while interacting with those we met on a daily basis.